


i'm bound in the effect with the cause

by text



Category: TRCNG (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Crying, Drinking, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/text/pseuds/text
Summary: "let's not self-project your depressing thoughts on one of your favorite people today"-me to myself right before i proceed to self-project my depressing thoughts on one of my favorite peopletitle from "now or never now" by metric





	i'm bound in the effect with the cause

**Author's Note:**

> "let's not self-project your depressing thoughts on one of your favorite people today"  
> -me to myself right before i proceed to self-project my depressing thoughts on one of my favorite people
> 
> title from "now or never now" by metric

Hakmin is at a wedding.

It’s not his own wedding, of course. God forbid he ever marry this young. Or this stupid.

He supposes he isn’t any smarter. After all, he is the one who agreed to attend the event, a bit too eagerly at that.

Hakmin is at a wedding and in the establishment he’s sitting at a round table by himself, fingers pinching and pulling at his cloth napkin, the crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow above him and his clean plate and unfilled wine glass.

The vows have already been spoken and many tears were shed. Hakmin didn’t cry. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t and has been maintaining it so far. Now, he is sitting through the afterparty, away from the gathering of people who are talking and dancing.

He thinks about where he was just a couple of hours before: standing in front of his mirror at home, examining his reflection. Hakmin didn’t expect that he would be attending a formal event within the first twenty years of his life. He didn’t even go to the high school prom. He did not possess a suit so he had to rent one. It was cheap and creased but it was black and looked nice at a distance. His tie was black, too. His loafers were a dark brown but he figured it wouldn’t be noticable. His black hair was combed and slick with gel and it felt crisp beneath his fingers. His mirror had seemed to be mocking him then, projecting the image of a pitiful, desperate man who looked like he was dressed for a funeral. He didn’t even want to step foot out the door. He knew it was too late to cancel.

Hakmin then pictures his present self in the third person. He must look pathetic right now: a man sitting alone at a table with three vacant seats, wearing a stiff suit that’s barely noticeable beneath the dim light, fiddling with a napkin because he’s too anxious to eat or talk to anyone.

There’s a wave of chatter and laughter and he musters all of his strength to turn his head toward the source, to the newlyweds who are slow dancing the night away. His chest gets an incredible tightness when he does so. Their smiles seem so bright from far away and Hakmin wishes he had, at the very most, a sliver of their happiness.

He stands. He’s had enough of beating himself up. He decides he wants to talk to people.

Hakmin is more sociable when he’s drunk. So he drinks some champagne and then some wine and then something bubbly that tastes like it’s probably worth more than his entire being. Hakmin drinks until his face heats up and loses control of his tongue, until his suit doesn’t feel so scratchy against his skin anymore, until he finally feels like something that resembles human.

Hakmin never realized there were so many people here after he stumbled around the main hall and the waiting room to introduce himself as the  _ good friend of the guy who just got married today! _ to everyone, including the catering staff and the bride, who was bemused at first but gradually grew more concerned the further Hakmin rambled about the groom.

  
  


After a long drink of water, Hakmin wanders into the bathroom, trying to obtain his sense of self. He leans over the sink and splashes some cold water on his face and wipes it off with his sleeve. He does it again and looks down at his hands and then up at the wide mirror which projects the reflection of the same pitiful and desperate man.

Against his own will, Hakmin crumbles.

He bites his lip, vision blurring. What a foolish man, he was.

He covers his eyes with his palms as he silently bursts into tears. He curses himself. He promised he wouldn’t cry here. He wouldn’t. Even if it was the worst day of his life, he wasn’t going to fucking  _ cry— _

The bathroom door swings open. Hakmin flinches at the sound and wonders where he should hide.

“Hakmin?”

Hakmin hears the shuffle of leather shoes slowly approach him.

“Hakmin, is that you?” The voice is gentle and Hakmin feels himself collapse inwardly as a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.

Only until he’s being squeezed tightly is when he realizes belatedly that he’s being pulled into a hug. He smothers his face into the other’s shoulder and lets himself shake in their arms.

“What—” Hakmin lifts his head and croaks out, his voice hoarse and ruined, “are you doing here?”

“I didn’t see you, so I was looking for you,” Taeseon says. Hakmin fights back another wave of tears.

“Don’t you have an important ceremony to be at?” Hakmin says to the ground.

“It isn’t one without you,” Taeseon says softly, and holds him tighter.

“I doubt that,” Hakmin laughs, the sound hollow, feeling so, so small. Taeseon ignores him and rubs his back and Hakmin can practically feel the coolness of his silver ring press against him, through the fabric of his suit. Another sob starts bubbling at the back of his throat and he has to swallow dryly to suppress it.

Once Hakmin’s tears have dried, Taeseon helps him up and carefully watches over him as he cleans himself.

He turns and meets Taeseon at almost eye-level once he’s finished. They aren’t exactly equal, after Taeseon had a notable growth spurt in the first year of high school and Hakmin’s remained scrawny throughout his entire life. Taeseon looks at Hakmin with his gaze tilted downward ever since.

They step out from the bathroom and into the vacant hallway. Hakmin feels the soft pressure of Taeseon’s hand on his back. Genuine concern worries across Taeseon’s features and it makes Hakmin’s stomach lurch, unused to the attention.

“Do you need a ride?” he asks.

Hakmin shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want you to get home safely.”

“Call a cab, then.”

Taeseon doesn’t look so pleased with that alternative but doesn’t object.

They wait outside for a couple of minutes once Taeseon is finished with making the call. Taeseon watches the busy night traffic; Hakmin ducks his head to stare at the sidewalk.

Taeseon laughs suddenly.

“What?” Hakmin asks, looking up.

“This is like how we first met, waiting for the morning bus.”

“Oh.” There is a significant amount of space between them. Taeseon, the epitome of confidence, stands with his spine straight, his chin raised. Hakmin, his antithesis, has his shoulders hunched and his legs drawn together. “It is.”

“It’s here,” Taeseon says once the taxi car arrives.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

They bid farewell with a hug. Taeseon assures him that it’s not a farewell and Hakmin can only press his cheek against his shoulder and sigh at his persistent strive for optimism. Taeseon hasn’t changed at all.

It’s Taeseon’s day. Taeseon is okay. Happy, even. Hakmin should be happy, too.

When they separate, Hakmin looks into Taeseon’s shining eyes and clears his throat, quietly letting go of his hurt and all the years he’s wasted by yearning without acting.

“Congratulations,” he says, and means it.


End file.
